(no subject)
FUCK
I'm tired, ALL THE TIME! Maybe it's because I never leave this house.
Right now, I doubt that we'll move up to Phoenix on time. My mom's an idiot -- a disorganized, hallucinating, idiot.
A- We don't know which area we're moving to, yet.
B- School..hmm. School? What's that? Yeah, I don't know what my school is this year, what classes I have, the campus...And she expects me to deal with that. Uhm, well -- how about she tries it? The bitch.
C- ..Bah, I'm angry, so fuck.
I still don't have my license. Why? Pure laziness from Mom. GAY! I'll badger her about it for a while..and as soon as I get my license...GOOOOOOOODBYE HOUSE! Fuck, man. Talk about needing a change of scenery.
I bet I'm beginning to be known as a major bitch at work. What with being among angry crackheads and dirty, cheating whores, I consider this a better road to follow. And, if the general public had any idea of manners or how much it takes to help in running a restaurant, then I probably wouldn't be as bitchy. Until that time, fuck off.
I was just thinking recently about all of those really witty sayings that make me think "Wow, that person's got class..." Of course, this then leads to a self-inflicting thought of "Gee, I wish I could be like that.." Now, after I have pondered this, in lue of my drunkenly-tired state, why the hell do I want to be like that? So that I could be worshipped by losers like me? No.
I want to be my loser self. Bitches.
So, this moving business. Fucked up, if you ask me. And I really, really want to know what school I'm going to. And I really DON'T want to start two weeks late. It seems impossible to tell my mom "Yo, homework now-a-days compared to your school-time...quadrupled. Bitch." But, no...I have to restrain myself.
The raunchy, nicotine induced bitch.
Man, thinking about her makes so angry. So, so, so, so, SO fucking angry.
Fucking capricorn bitch. Jeez.
I'm tired, ALL THE TIME! Maybe it's because I never leave this house.
Right now, I doubt that we'll move up to Phoenix on time. My mom's an idiot -- a disorganized, hallucinating, idiot.
A- We don't know which area we're moving to, yet.
B- School..hmm. School? What's that? Yeah, I don't know what my school is this year, what classes I have, the campus...And she expects me to deal with that. Uhm, well -- how about she tries it? The bitch.
C- ..Bah, I'm angry, so fuck.
I still don't have my license. Why? Pure laziness from Mom. GAY! I'll badger her about it for a while..and as soon as I get my license...GOOOOOOOODBYE HOUSE! Fuck, man. Talk about needing a change of scenery.
I bet I'm beginning to be known as a major bitch at work. What with being among angry crackheads and dirty, cheating whores, I consider this a better road to follow. And, if the general public had any idea of manners or how much it takes to help in running a restaurant, then I probably wouldn't be as bitchy. Until that time, fuck off.
I was just thinking recently about all of those really witty sayings that make me think "Wow, that person's got class..." Of course, this then leads to a self-inflicting thought of "Gee, I wish I could be like that.." Now, after I have pondered this, in lue of my drunkenly-tired state, why the hell do I want to be like that? So that I could be worshipped by losers like me? No.
I want to be my loser self. Bitches.
So, this moving business. Fucked up, if you ask me. And I really, really want to know what school I'm going to. And I really DON'T want to start two weeks late. It seems impossible to tell my mom "Yo, homework now-a-days compared to your school-time...quadrupled. Bitch." But, no...I have to restrain myself.
The raunchy, nicotine induced bitch.
Man, thinking about her makes so angry. So, so, so, so, SO fucking angry.
Fucking capricorn bitch. Jeez.